Another Time, Another place
by Aliana
Summary: "There will come another time, another place, when we shall meet again . . ."


Another Time, Another Place  
  
"There will come another time, another place, when we shall meet again . . ."  
   
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///Thought is random, dispersed, a flicker of understanding amid chaos. Particles spread thin in the coldness of space. Then, a warmth, an intensity, pulling, pulling – energy! Comprehension coalesces as the stellar radiation is absorbed, atoms heated, revitalized. Yes . . . yes. It regains awareness. It comprehends and – remembers. Gaseous clouds swirl with anger, rage as it remembers. A judgment, a pronouncement. A forfeiture. Condemned to sail the vast reaches of space without the ability to assume a substantive form. Because of a mere – a mere -- *human* -- an inconsequential, insignificant, *weak* parasite upon the greatness of this universe! Energy crackles, explodes upon itself in unbounded fury as it absorbs the stellar rays of the star that would soon be identified as Epsilon Xi . . .///  
  
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"I'm picking up erratic energy readings from that system, lots of fluctuations." Flight Sergeant Avery ran the scans again, with the same results. They seemed to be random bursts of energy, and nothing in the Colonial database could offer any possible explanation.   
"We'd better check it out." Lieutenant Bojay sent a brief, coded message, including the results of his own scan, back to the _Galactica_. "Let's go!"  
Both vipers activated their thrusters and altered course for the Epsilon Xi system. At the standard FLT viper velocity, they would be in short-range scanner range in about three centars. As a young star, Epsilon Xi had no satellites mature enough to be life-supporting; thus, the _Galactica_ had originally deemed it worthy of no more than a long-distance reconnaissance survey. Current readings, however, had changed that plan. Once the two vipers were within range, they slowed to a sub light speed and activated their short-range scanners.  
"Getting a reading now," said Avery as he watched the computer generate a visual pattern on his screen, as well as list all details. "Seems to be an electromagnetic disturbance of some kind."  
Bojay studied his own readings. "Yeah, and no indication that it's anything other than a natural phenomenon. Let's do a fly by of the area to get some data to make the scientists happy, then head back."  
"Roger that," said Avery. Wilker and his lot might find these sort of scientific mysteries exciting, but to him, they did little more than delay a reunion he had planned – with a tall tankard of ale back in the O-Club.   
A visual scan of the region showed nothing discernible to the naked eye, except some random energy pulses. Punching in a few codes in his navigational panel, Avery decided to let the computer take the viper in a loop around the disturbance at what should be a safe enough distance. It didn't appear to cover a very large area. Switching on the autopilot, he relaxed back into his seat, letting his mind drift to thoughts of long, slow sips of Sagittarian Ale, his favorite, and maybe a card game or two. Always fun to challenge the other squadrons to a couple rounds of Pyramid. Red, Blue, and Silver Spar had an informal running competition among the squadrons, and Silver Spar was currently in the lead with the most hands won over the past secton. Since they couldn't gamble with actual cubits in the O-Club, they kept a continuous log of wins/defeats, with the winning squadron for each secton being able to swap duties and such with the less fortunate –  
*Beep beep. Beep beep.* The alarm signaled a micron before the energy blast hit Avery's viper. Bright blue streaks of electricity coursed around and through his ship. The instruments on his panel crackled in protest, readings went off the scale, and then everything went dead with a loud pop that made the pilot grab for his helmet. Then silence.  
  
"Avery! Avery! Do you copy?" Bojay's voice was faint and staticky, but audible. So communications still functioned, if barely.   
"I copy. Give me a moment to assess any damage." Avery shook his head; his ears were still ringing and his temples were throbbing, but otherwise, he seemed okay. His viper, though, was not. All systems were down, and attempts to restart his engines proved futile. "I'm dead in space," reported Avery. "I've got short-range communications and emergency life support, but that's it."  
"I'll attach the tow lines and notify the _Galactica_," said Bojay with a sigh. With such an arrangement, they could still make light speed, but at half the standard velocity. Estimated time back to the Fleet was now seven centars.  
"Kay-o," responded Avery. Frak, they probably wouldn't make it back until after curfew. That tankard would have to wait -- The pilot squinted as the throbbing in his head intensified suddenly. For a moment, his vision blurred and he thought he might black out, so agonizing was the pain. Then it subsided again.  
"Avery! Are you okay?" Bojay's voice was filled with concern.  
The pilot took several deep breaths. "Yeah. . . I think so. Got one hades of a headache, though."  
"Well, just hang in there and we'll have you checked out in the lifestation once we get back."  
"Swell." Avery closed his eyes. The throbbing had moved. . . now it seemed to radiate from the base of his skull. And he felt tired, eyes heavy. . . sleep would be a welcome relief. "I'll just snooze until then," he murmured into the comlink as he drifted off.  
Weird, thought Bojay, as he ran one final scan of the area before activating the turbos. That electromagnetic disturbance was no longer there.  
  
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///Caution, it urged itself, caution. The transfer had made it weak. And this was a new experience for it; it had to explore its limits, yet not so boldly that it aroused suspicions. For now, it would rest, observe, and learn. Patience, it told itself, patience, too. Was it pure chance that the human craft had passed within its range? Perhaps, perhaps, but regardless of the circumstances, it felt a growing, indescribable joy. Vengeance, a slow delectable revenge, was now suddenly possible . . . ///  
Avery rubbed the back of his neck as he entered the O-Club. He should have felt rested – after all, he had spent most of the day dozing in his bunk – but he didn't. And his head still throbbed, as it had since returning to the _Galactica_ nearly 15 centars ago.  
"Sleep and a day's furlon," Salik had stated with a slight smile after examining him. "Everything check's out fine, but that headache troubles me, a bit. So I'll give you something for the pain, and contact me if it gets any worse."   
Well, it hadn't gotten any better, but it wasn't really any worse, either, reflected Avery. And he wasn't about to miss another evening of Pyramid and Sagittarian Ale. Who knows? It might even help his head.  
He scanned the room as he entered, drawing in a deep breath of the smoky, rather stale atmosphere, a relaxing fragrance, in his mind. A few small groups of warriors sat together, talking quietly, a happy couple was lost in their own world as they sipped ambrosa, but most were gathered around the tables in the back, where the card games were already in full swing. Fumarello smoke swirled around heads as the pilots played intently. Avery noted three games going, and he wondered how Silver Spar now ranked. Bojay and two others were engaged against three players from Red Squadron. The other two groups consisted of Red against Blue and Silver Spar against Blue.   
Stopping briefly at the bar to procure that long-anticipated tankard of ale, Avery slid in behind Bojay to watch the action and took a slow sip, savoring the rich taste and malty flavor. The lieutenant, it seemed, was winning, Avery noted with a smile. He watched Bojay win that hand and two more, leisurely downing his drink, along with a refill. By the time he was able to sit in on his first game, he felt pleasantly relaxed and the throbbing seemed to have abated just a bit. He ordered a third tankard.  
His opponents were from Blue Squadron: Giles, Greenbean, and Tellar. And after the first two games, Avery was convinced that one of them was cheating. Who, he wasn't sure, but he was determined to find out. The pain was back, throbbing, jabbing him between the eyes, now. Blast it! He rubbed his forehead as he pondered his cards and cast furtive glances at his opponents. When he had whispered a warning to Bojay, who was also still playing, the lieutenant had shaken his head and said that he didn't see any cheating – just a good run of luck.   
Luck, felgeracrb! Avery just *knew* they were cheating. Knew it! Probably Tellar. He watched as the corporal placed his cards down with a grin – a smug, over-confident grin. A winning hand. Like frak!   
Avery sprung to his feet, knocking the table over, more by accident than by any true intention, onto his opponents. "You're cheating!" he screamed. His head was pounding, pounding. He wanted nothing more than to tear into Tellar. Tellar. He lunged for him, caught him around the throat, and squeezed, squeezed. The rage was boiling from within, consuming him. Squeeze. Tighter. Tighter. Tellar's eyes bulged and he was making gurgling noises. His face was purple. Tighter, tighter! Feel the flesh tearing, the life about to explode from this detestable human creature, Vile! Vile! Let it die!   
"What the frak – let go!" Bojay was screaming at Avery as he and four others tried to pull his hands from Tellar's throat. The veins were bulging in Avery's face and neck, his expression was twisted, manical, inhuman . . .  
With a sickening sound of breaking bones, Bojay finally pried the flight sergeant's fingers away from a now unconscious Tellar. Avery seemed not to notice and turned on the lieutenant, straining against the three pairs of hands that held him. Until the pounding in his own brain burst. Avery went limp. The winded warriors let his body collapse in a heap.   
For a brief moment, the only sound was the raspy breathing as everyone stared in shock at the two still forms. "Did anyone call for some med techs?" Bojay asked finally, looking around and noticing that security had arrived. Not waiting for an answer, the lieutenant knelt down next to the men. Tellar was groaning and rolling his head from side to side, so Bojay focused on Avery.  
"Lords of Kobol," murmured Bojay. The sergeant was pale, with lips parted and eyes staring vacantly. A thin stream of blood was trickling from his left nostril. With a trembling hand, Bojay reached down to check for a pulse. The skin of Avery's neck felt hot and clammy, and as the lieutenant pressed, searching, hoping against hope to find a sign of life, for the briefest of moments he thought he felt a tingle, a twinge, a surge of heat that made him jerk his hand back slightly. A pulse? When he put his fingers back, though, the skin felt suddenly cold. Bojay was puzzled, but too stunned to give it much thought. He continued to feel around for only a couple more microns; Avery had no pulse.  
"Frak, oh, frak," whispered Bojay as he moved back to make way for the med techs. He felt shaky, overwhelmed. He watched in a numbed silence as they confirmed what he already knew. No, it couldn't be, thought Bojay wildly. He'd checked out just fine in the lifestation! People don't just . . . die. They'd been wingmates for nearly three sectars, now; he *knew* the man. Avery was a level headed, fun-loving pilot. Not –  
"Lieutenant. Lieutenant, we need your statement."  
"What?" Bojay tore his eyes away from Avery to see a security guard gazing expectantly at him.   
"Tell us what happened," the man said.  
Bojay took several deep breathes, then described what he had seen. Even as he went through the events, they seemed surreal to him. Impossible. The maniacal, insane intensity with which Avery had attacked Teller, it made no sense, no sense!   
Eventually, everyone was ushered out of the O-Club after the med techs had removed Tellar and Avery and security had taken statements from all witnesses. Bojay and all the other pilots moved in a subdued, shocked silence as they made their way back to their billets. To lose pilots in combat was expected, but this? The warriors would face a restless night that evening.  
  
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Part 2  
  
/// It was weak, too weak. It had almost overextended itself, it realized, almost drained its life force. Almost ended an eternal existence. Yes, it realized, yes . . .it had almost . . . died. The elation, the passion, the overpowering ecstasy it had felt as it destroyed, as it crushed that insignificant human had overshadowed the dangers. No, it could not afford to make that mistake again. Restraint, restraint, once it had regained its energy . . .///  
"So what do the winners get?" asked a voice from the back of the briefing room.  
Colonel Tigh smiled wryly. "The winning squadron gets free passes to the Rising Star for one evening, and vouchers worth 1000 cubits – enough to cover a meal or a round at the Pyramid tables."  
"Woo hoo!" The cheers lasted several centons.   
At first, when the colonel had stated that all squadrons would be undergoing extensive simulation practice, everyone had groaned. They understood the need to hone their skills, especially since they had been fortunate enough to not encounter any Cylons for over three sectars. But, still, training was training – boring and for the cadets, had been Bojay's reaction. Until Colonel Tigh had explained that the entire training session would be a competition among the squadrons, as incentive for the veterans to assist the cadets and to draw the pilots together with some good old-fashioned team building.  
The premise was simple. Each pilot challenged the computer in a simulated battle against Cylon raiders. Then the scores for each squadron were tallied together. Skill levels would be factored in with the totals, as well. In addition, the computer would track individual scores so that not only would the winning squadron receive recognition, but also the top pilot. The warriors were eager to see who would earn that honor; in no time, a betting pool had evolved on just who that would be, with the favorites being Blue Squadron's Apollo and Starbuck.  
Bojay studied the computron for a moment. Those two names . . . a faint, indescribable feeling flickered through his mind.  
"Well, are you going to bet, or not?" Boomer took the computron from Bojay.  
"What? Oh, yeah." He let a slight grin cross his lips. "5000 on me. I intend to give those two a definite run for their money."  
Boomer chuckled. "Gotcha. However, looking at the odds, I think Blue Squadron is gonna make the rest of you look like a bunch of first-yahren cadets," he said as he moved on to the next pilot.  
"We'll see about that!" Bojay smiled at Boomer's back, watching for a moment the warriors as they waited to begin the simulator runs. Most now stayed with their squadron mates as they watched their chronometers and awaited Colonel Tigh. It would be a friendly rivalry, sure, but one taken very seriously by the different teams.   
The smile faded when Bojay saw three warriors clustered together, laughing, looking confident and relaxed. Confident, too confident. Apollo, Starbuck, and Sheba. He watched as Sheba ran a hand through her long, silky brown hair and smiled into the eyes of the captain. And a sharp pain shot through his temples for the briefest of moments. Sheba, she looked so lovely. She should have been his, he realized. They had been wingmates and close friends when they'd been aboard the Pegasus. But now . . . she barely graced him with a smile, rarely sought out his company. Instead, she spent her time swooning over that pompous Captain Apollo, so sure of himself. She should have been mine. Mine. She had given herself freely to me . . .  
Bojay squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temples as another pain, more intense this time, shot through them. "What the frak?" he muttered. He heard the voice of Colonel Tigh and focused on the impending start of the simulator challenge. He was scheduled to go in the fourth group. Until then, he and the other warriors would gather around and watch the five monitors that had been connected to the simulators, allowing each to follow and scrutinize the others' performances. Thus, if one messed up and got blown up at the first level, everyone would know about it. No pressure, Bojay chuckled to himself, no pressure.  
  
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///No, no, no . . . not yet. Patience, my soul, patience! You will taste the sweet nectar of vengeance, but slowly . . . slowly, to be savored, one sip at a time. To delight in its essence, relish the moment. For now, bask in the glorious anticipation of the moment. ///  
The competition lasted for three days, five centars each day. For the first day and a half, the lead had shifted among the three squadrons, with no one gaining a clear advantage. However, as the ace pilots, Apollo, Starbuck, and Boomer, continued to better their own previous personal scores each round, Blue Squadron had pulled into the lead by the end of the second day's competition. In fact, as the contest resumed on day three, Blue Squadron held the top four spots for individual scores – Apollo and Starbuck were virtually tied, with Boomer not far behind, followed closely by Sheba. Hot on her heels, though, was Silver Spar's top pilot, Bojay.   
By the end of the second centar, however, Bojay had surpassed Sheba and was tied with Boomer. As he settled into the simulator seat for his next go-round, he cast a glance to his left. One simulator over sat Captain Apollo, the joystick gripped in his hand, his eyes focused on the screen in front of him, as he readied himself. Not this time, mused Bojay, not this time. He stared at his own computer screen, feeling a renewed determination. Everyone seemed to take it for granted that Blue Squadron would win, thanks to the pretentious captain and his annoying sidekick. But by the Sagittarian moons, not this time. He was every bit as good a pilot as they were! This time he'd show everyone.  
Bojay closed his eyes briefly and took a long drawn-out breath, letting the air fill his lungs and exhaling slowly, feeling a growing sense of confidence. This was *his* time. The computer screen suddenly burst to life as the simulation began, and almost before they appeared on his scanner, the lieutenant blasted the first round of Cylons, advancing to the second level. His highest level, so far, had been 16. Apollo's had been 21. This time, Bojay felt like he could almost sense what the computer would do. He blasted Cylon after Cylon. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Apollo was sweating, straining, reaching his limit, until -- *beep beep.* The indicator light above his cockpit signaled that he had been destroyed. Game over. Bojay fought on. Level 20, 21, 22 . . .he felt giddy! Invincible! He had beaten the captain in this round! Level 23. Yes, yes. Defeated him. Who was the better pilot now? Who really deserved the lovely Sheba? And what did she see in him, so self-important and ostentatious -- *zap.*  
He had lost his focus, he realized, and was destroyed on level 24. But a glance at the screen that showed the running totals made him grin. He was now third, behind Apollo, who had slipped just seven points behind Lieutenant Starbuck. They had three more rounds to go. He could still it do it, by the Lords of Kobol, he could still do it!  
A hand struck his back and made him jumped. "Great shooting!"  
Bojay steadied himself against the sudden wave of irritation that welled up as he looked into Captain Apollo's face. "Yeah, thanks," he said with a forced smile. "Just wait until the next round."  
Apollo chuckled as he moved away, back to where the other members of Blue Squadron were waiting. Bojay watched as Sheba jabbed the captain in the ribs and made what must have been a joking comment. She smiled that wide, mischievous smile, her brown eyes glinting. Then she looked directly at him. "Way to fly, Bojay!"   
Her gaze, as he made eye contact, sent a jolt straight through him. Those liquid eyes, so expressive, so innocent, so yielding. Soon, soon, she would be his again. . .  
Bojay shook his head. The pain had returned, or rather, he had felt a buzzing, odd sensation that made him dizzy. For the briefest of moments he felt his head spin and he could not remember where he was or why he was there. He realized that Sheba was giving him a puzzled look.  
"Hey, are you okay?" she asked, taking a couple of steps towards him.   
"What?" He muttered. Then he remembered. And he remembered that he had just beaten Apollo. He smiled at her. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah! I'm fine! Just wait until the next round!"  
Sheba grinned and shook her head, giving him that playful, challenging look that he used to see so often aboard the Pegasus. "If you can do that again, I'll buy you a drink in the OC! Really," she said, her face subtly more serious, "that was some incredible shooting in that last run."   
"Thanks." Bojay watched as she waved slightly, then returned her attention back to the others. The lieutenant moved off towards the rest of Silver Spar, still smiling faintly to himself, and still puzzled by the odd, inexplicable sensation – that he did, but *didn't,* remember his last simulator run. He had that feeling one had after experiencing a vivid dream, that turns out to be just that – a dream. He looked at the tally board, deciding to just forget it. His run, it seemed, had put Silver Spar within reach of Blue Squadron. Maybe, just maybe. . .  
His next two turns proved to be good, but nothing like that previous one. Still, it had been enough to put him within 3 points of Captain Apollo, who had also had the misfortune to overcompensate during a maneuver and end up being blown up on only level 17. Starbuck seemed to have unwavering good luck and success as he now led by 11 points. And as chance would have it, Bojay found himself seated in the simulator next to the lieutenant's on their last run.   
He felt tense and nervous. He rubbed at his temple. This was it. He could do it, if he could just relax. And just shake off this infernal headache. Just relax, just relax. After all, he had done it once, defeating Apollo, if he just relaxed he might even beat the flamboyant Lieutenant Starbuck, who was grinning and waving at the observers. He even had a fumarello clamped between his teeth. He was confident, so confident. Too confident. And smug.   
Bojay frowned as he watched the lieutenant finally climb into the simulator. Then he focused on his own computer screen. A wild thought flitted through his mind. These terminals are connected, all run by the same computer. Now why would he care about that? Bojay shook his head and tried to relax. He could beat the captain if he was careful; that was what mattered. Defeat the captain. But if he could wipe that smug smile from Starbuck's face, it would feel so sweet, so sweet . . .  
He felt himself letting go of his tension as he took several deep breaths. Relax, relax. He could do it, do it again. And this time he would not be distracted. He gripped the joystick, felt the power. The energy. . .  
///Yes, yes. It can be done. ///  
The computer screen burst to life, and Bojay once again felt completely relaxed and completely absorbed. He could do it! The Cylons exploded almost before he knew they had materialized. Power. Energy. And as he continued, his breathing became steady and deep, rhythmic, like an electronic pulse. For a split micron, an image flashed before him. But it wasn't his screen. No, it was . . .  
Bojay cast a quick glance at Starbuck. He was sweating, struggling. Not so easy, is it? The thought materialized as Bojay returned his attention to his own screen. Where's the smug smile now? That cocky confidence? I know patterns of which you've never dreamed! Beyond you or the Cylons or any pathetic organism that thinks it can defeat me. *Me.* Just wait, just wait.  
"What the frak!"   
Bojay looked over next to him again to see Starbuck slam his hand against the simulator's control panel. He was shaking his head in frustration and puzzlement. The light flashed to indicate that his round had ended.  
/// Relax. And focus. /// Bojay snapped his attention back to his own screen. Miraculously, he was still winning, still blasting Cylons. He had reached level 24, 25 . . . But the pain in his temples was back. He felt pulled, confused. Dizzy. Like he had been stretched too thin, overextended. He didn't even respond as the simulated fighter flew up behind him. He was just glad it had ended as he watched his own viper explode. His head was pounding now, and he felt so tired. And drained.  
The pilots were in an uproar, Bojay realized as he looked up from his blank computer screen. Some were cheering, others shouting and cursing. Starbuck was standing next to his simulator, waiting, the fumarello clenched tightly and his face still perplexed. A glance at the tally board showed that Starbuck's last round had ended at level 15 and his score was well below all of his others.  
As Bojay climbed unsteadily out of the simulator, Starbuck extended a hand. "You must have done some incredible flying," he said, his lips curled in a bemused smile.  
"What do you mean?" Bojay took the proffered hand but barely returned the shake.  
Starbuck pointed his fumarello towards the tally board. "You just took top honors."  
Bojay stared in disbelief at the scores. Starbuck's average had dropped nine points, while his had gone up by seven. Since Apollo had already taken his last turn, the scores on the board were the finals. He had won. Starbuck was second, and Apollo was third. And he had won by two points. Blue Squadron would most likely still finish first, with only one more round left to go, and no one in that group posed any threat. But he had won! He burst out laughing. "Holy frak!"  
  
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Part 3  
  
/// Time to wait, time to wait . . .and learn. It did not know the limits of its new state of being and it did not know its new potential, but it was a different experience to be *one* with its subject. Where before it had exerted its influence while remaining a separate entity, it now was fused with its host. It knew its every thought, every memory. It could do so much more. And less. Several times it had drained its energy dangerously by pushing the host too far. So it knew it must wait and be cautious, cautious, if it were to fulfill its greatest desire. To destroy the one who had dared to defy him. But first, to watch him suffer, suffer. Suffer. ///  
Lights twinkled and flashed, music blared, and fumarello smoke swirled around throughout the vast entertainment hall of the _Rising Star_. Bojay took a deep breath and studied his companions. They were all seated at a table, watching the exotic dancers and sipping ambrosa. The other members of Blue Squadron were dispersed throughout the Rising Star, enjoying their reward for winning the simulator challenge. Bojay was relaxed and happier than he had been in a long while; it felt good to be seated across from Sheba, listening to her voice, watching the twinkle in her eye as she teased the captain. It felt almost like those nights on the Pegasus that Silver Spar – the *real* Silver Spar – had spent together in the O-Club, laughing about how they had outwitted the Cylons once again in some disgustingly easy ambush. And unlike so often, since joining the Fleet, Bojay felt *included* with the group right now. Sheba was like family to him, his only family now. Family. Nothing more, he told himself.   
As if on a mental cue, Sheba flashed her grin at him. "Okay, you've got to tell us how you aced that last run. That was incredible shooting!"  
Bojay returned the grin and leaned back in his chair. "Skill. Just skill." Never mind that he, himself, didn't know how it had happened, that he didn't really even remember doing it. He certainly wasn't going to tell them that. Instead, it was time to shift the subject. He glanced at the others who were with them, Starbuck, Cassiopeia, and Boomer. "What I'd like to know," he said, "is what happened to you, Starbuck? Look, I admit that I'm good," he said with a wink at Sheba, who tossed a cracker at him. He dodged it as he continued, "But, seriously, you should have won the Top Pilot honors."  
"Beats the hades out of me!" Starbuck shook his head, chuckling. "I'd swear that computer was possessed, because those were *not* level 15 maneuvers those Cylons were doing!"  
Boomer laughed, too. "We've analyzed the replay. It might well have been some sort of glitch, because even Colonel Tigh admits that the moves and speed of those simulated Cylons did not match the level. Even Dr. Wilker can't explain it. Best he can offer is a 'hiccup' in the program that skipped to level 30, or so!"  
  
"Ah, well," Starbuck said, "it hardly matters now."  
Apollo raised his glass. "A toast to the 'Top Pilot,' then."  
Bojay smiled as he raised his glass and looked straight at the captain. Was there a hint of sarcasm in his words? As much as he wanted to be a part of Sheba's new circle of friends, something about the captain just always seemed to rub him the wrong way.   
/// Soon, dear captain, soon . . .///  
Bojay decided to sit back and just watch as he sipped his drink, studying once more his companions. Sheba giggled and snuggled close to Apollo. When she stared up at him, the connection between them was obvious.   
/// Connection. What's this? It felt a tingle. ///  
Starbuck was busy describing to Boomer and Cassiopeia how no real Cylon would ever have made the moves that the simulated ones did. Now here was a pilot that he could relate to, someone who would joke around and not take himself so seriously. After all, he had honestly congratulated him on winning. Bojay stared fixedly at the lieutenant for a moment.  
/// Connection? ///  
Starbuck noticed Bojay's intent gaze and turned towards him. Bojay quickly looked away, focusing on pouring a refill.  
/// Something is different, not right. There exists a bond between those two, Apollo and Sheba . . . no, those *three.* Starbuck, too. No human is capable of this kind of connection, unless . . . ///  
"What's on your mind? Why so quiet?" Sheba asked.  
Bojay snapped his head up. He realized that he had been staring at his glass. "Uh, nothing, nothing." He felt confused. And his head was starting to throb again, as it had off and on lately. "Just tired, I guess."  
"You're on patrol tomorrow, aren't you?" Sheba asked quietly.  
"Yeah. Second rotation." That actually had not crossed his mind, or had it? He wasn't sure what he had been thinking about.  
"It'll be the first time since Avery's death, won't it?"   
"Yeah. But I'm fine." Bojay smiled across at Sheba, feeling her concern. Like a sister, he told himself. And she was always so perceptive.  
"Look," she said, "we're all sorry about what happened."  
"It can't be easy." Apollo looked concerned, empathetic, too.   
"Felgercarb happens," responded Bojay. "Life goes on." He grinned at the two. "And we're getting way too serious here!"  
"Agreed!" chimed in Starbuck, who climbed to his feet. "Cassie and I are headed to the chancery tables, anyway." Cassie smiled, yet still managed to look pained. "You coming, too, Boomer?"  
"I'll probably regret this," he said with a resigned look, "but yes, I'm coming." He grinned at Starbuck. "With your recent luck, though, maybe I'd be better off not –"  
Starbuck jabbed him in the ribs. "Hey, what about you three?"  
"I'll pass," answered Bojay. The throbbing in his temples had abated, but he felt tired and ready to head back to the _Galactica_.  
"No thanks!" said Apollo. "And you'd better not forget that we're also on patrol tomorrow, bright and early, at 0900."  
"Not a problem!" Starbuck waved as they headed off towards the chancery. Bojay watched him, staring at his back until he disappeared through the doorway, then returned his attention to Apollo and Sheba. They were engrossed in a quiet conversation, having forgotten about him, it seemed. So he gazed at them, waiting for them to remember that they were *not* alone. Yeah, probably time for him to make his excuses and exit, leaving them. But something held him transfixed. The way they beheld each other. What was it?  
/// Yes. Yes! Of course! It was not enough for Them to mettle in his affairs, to reverse his destruction of the dear captain – to dare to extract their retribution from him! No. They had done more. More. It could sense the link that now existed among the three. Even they did not know about it or remember. But he now knew. Yes. . . it would make his revenge even sweeter, even more fulfilling . . . To exterminate these three, contemptible humans would also destroy the link that They had formed with this insignificant race. But it also increased the risk. Touch the minds of one of them, and They would know. Caution was even more important, more vital now. ///  
"Bojay!" Sheba was kicking him from under the table. Apollo was smiling – no, smirking – at him.  
"What?" He shook his head; he must have dozed off. "Sorry. Guess I'd better head back." A sudden thought struck him. "Hey, Sheba?"  
"Yeah, Bojay?"   
"Wanna join me in the training room tomorrow at 0600?" Back on the Pegasus, he and Sheba had often let off steam in the training room, jogging laps and challenging each other. Often, they had gone in the early centars before any one else arrived. Their time, it had been. Their time.  
"Kinda early, don't you think?" Sheba answered, glancing at Apollo.  
The captain smiled again at Bojay. That ingratiating look. "Why not? That's always the quietest time."  
Sheba shot him a quizzical look. "You're actually encouraging me to go?" She looked at Bojay. "Okay, why not? Besides, I bet I could run laps around you now!"  
So we shall see," he said, climbing to his feet, smiling, taking his leave of the two. "Tomorrow at 0600, then."  
  
******************  
/// Control. Control. Control was the key. It could be done, yes, but it would be an effort. And a fine line between success and . . . expending too much energy. ///  
Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, mused Bojay as he leaned against the door to the training room, waiting for Sheba to arrive. Lords, he was tired! And that throbbing headache persisted.   
But there she was. As he watched her approach, smiling at him, looking so innocent, he knew it was time. Time? He felt so odd. Maybe he should just be honest and tell her he needed more rest. A sudden, fierce pain made him grunt and close his eyes.   
/// Nothing will interfere now! I have waited for this moment. I shall have it! ///  
"Hey, you okay?" Bojay opened his eyes to see Sheba standing in front of him. "Maybe we should try another day?"  
"No!"   
Sheba gave him a startled look, eyes widening. "Okay, okay. Ready when you are." She activated the door and headed on into the deserted training room.   
Bojay followed behind her. She was dressed in a skin-tight one-piece warm-up suit that hugged her body and shimmered under the artificial lighting as she moved, accentuating her curves. Her hair flowed and bounced loose, swaying. She was his, his, his alone.  
/// Restraint. Restraint. To push too much and too quickly is to lose control. Yes, yes. That's it. Slowly, slowly absorb the consciousness of this pitiful human, assume control. Control. The power to perform at will. Whatever, whatever, that will may be. Yes, yes . . . my will. ///  
Bojay watched as Sheba stopped in the middle of the expansive room. A track ran along the perimeter and surrounded an assortment of workout equipment and smaller practice areas. The lieutenant turned to flash a smile and began stretching and loosening her limbs. As she bent low to reach the floor, with legs spread apart, her hair tumbled down her arms and across her face. With a flowing grace, she swept the hair back as she stood upright. Then she noticed his unwavering stare.  
"Bojay!" she said with mock reproach, "Aren't you going to warm up? Hate for you to pull a muscle trying to keep up with me!" And with that, she jogged out onto the track.  
/// Such innocence . . . a sister to you, indeed. Or so you pretended to both her and yourself. But I know your most profound desires. The deep aching that the love you wished might grow between the two of you has been given to another. You want her. Yes, you do. You want to feel her, caress her soft skin, her silky hair. You want to taste the sweetness of her lips. And so shall you. ///  
Bojay trotted out onto the track and quickly pulled beside Sheba. "Think you're fast, do you?" he said, careful to avoid looking directly at her, lest she sense his desire, his intent. "Catch me!"  
He sprinted ahead effortlessly. He could hear her trying to catch up. He maintained a stride that kept her several paces behind him. Shortly, he could hear her breaths becoming deeper, more labored.  
/// The beautiful Sheba chose to give herself to the illustrious Captain Apollo. And how it will rip his soul when she is dead. But first, but first, the luscious taste of revenge. Now. . . now, now! She is mine. She is mine! Mine! ///  
"Ah! Ow!" Bojay grabbed at his temples and doubled over. Sheba almost ran into him, but managed to stop just in time.  
"Bojay! Are you all right?" She put a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe we should stop. I think you should see Dr. Salik about these headaches -"  
"No! I'm fine! Fine. Just ran too fast. That's all." He stood upright, careful to keep his back to her.  
/// Caution! Restraint! Must maintain control, control. With restraint. Maintain the balance . . . maintain the balance. These organic creatures are too fragile, too weak! No, restraint, restraint. ///  
Sheba still had her hand on his shoulder. Her touch was so warm, so warm, burning, burning like his desire, his need . . .  
"I really think you should . . ." Sheba let her hand drop. Something wasn't quite right.  
He turned to face her, slowly. "No," he whispered. He took a step towards her.  
Sheba suddenly sensed the danger, realized his intent, as inconceivable as it might be. She moved backwards, then turned to run.  
/// Mine, mine, mine! You are mine! ///  
Bojay sprinted and grabbed her elbow, swinging her around and yanking her to an abrupt stop. Sheba instantly saw the look on his face. It was contorted. Manical. She started to scream. A hand clamped across her mouth, muffling the sound. Fingers dug violently into her cheek, and she was twisted around, pressed tight against him, before she could fathom what was taking place. The arm shifted to a grip across her neck with just enough pressure to prevent any loud sound from escaping, but not enough to stop her breathing. The other arm was wrapped across her torso, his hand gripping, squeezing her wrist. She could not move. He pulled her tightly against him.  
"Mine," he whispered, "mine, mine . . ." His lips brushed against her neck, her ear, kissing, licking. "Mine," he continued to chant.   
The initial shock was turning to a panic-driven rage. "Like hades!" she gasped. With all of her strength she twisted against him, dropping down so that his arm crossed at her chin and not at her neck, breaking the hold on her wrist that had already started to loosen as he had focused on the kisses. She slipped free and stumbled backwards.  
But he was on top of her in less than a micron. The groaning growl from his throat was inhuman, inhuman. She stared into his eyes as she struggled against his crushing weight. The look was terrifying, penetrating.   
/// No! You cannot! You must not make contact! No! ///  
In a panic-driven fury, Bojay smashed his fist against her temple, smashed her head against the cold, hard floor with both hands.   
/// You must not touch me! You cannot! Cannot! Fool of a human! ///  
She was limp. The blood was pooling quickly beneath her head. This was too fast, too fast. He was losing control. Had lost control. He needed to savor the victory, savor the conquest.   
/// No! You will not defy me again! ///  
He gripped her face with his hands and kissed her, roughly, passion combined with uncontrolled rage and frustration -  
"Stop!!"  
  
Hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled at him. He dropped the unconscious form of Sheba and turned on the intruders.   
/// How dare they! ///  
Two security guards scrambled backwards, drawing their lasers. "Halt!" they screamed.  
/// How dare they! How dare they! ///  
Bojay rushed towards them. The rage was all encompassing, all consuming. Hatred, fury, loathing --   
The laser beam penetrated his chest and seemed to explode in his head. He collapsed to the floor, as still and lifeless as his intended victim.  
  
**************  
Part 4  
  
Captain Apollo took a deep, shuddering breath and stopped cold as he entered the lifestation. Up until that moment, he had not believed the words that had interrupted his pre-flight check as he and Starbuck had prepared to launch for their patrol. "Sheba's been injured," the commander's voice had said. "An incident involving Lieutenant Bojay. Report to my office right away."  
She was still, so still, lying on the biobed beneath the monitor. An IV ran from the bag to her hand. Her eyes were closed. But the most numbing sight was her face, what little was visible beneath the heavy bandages. Scratched and bruised and swollen. He hardly recognized her.   
Apollo choked back a sob and walked slowly up to the biobed, sinking down beside her. Gently, carefully, as though afraid it might break some delicate balance that kept the heart monitor beeping, he touched her hand. "Oh, Sheba . . ." he whispered.  
Starbuck had followed behind the captain silently, feeling the horror and shock, as well. They had both been briefed before being permitted to come to the lifestation. Nothing, but nothing, could prepare one for this. And equally horrific was the still form of Lieutenant Bojay lying in another biobed. There he was, but it still didn't seem possible, or fathomable, that *he* was responsible for Sheba's condition.  
Dr. Salik had silently approached Starbuck, watching Apollo, but knowing nothing he could say could ease the pain or the shock. "What -" Starbuck stopped to clear his throat, then tried again. "What's her condition?"   
"No change," he said quietly. "The head injuries were extensive and we did what we could. Only time will tell, now. She'll be sedated for next several days, at least. I wish I could give you a more optimistic prognosis."  
Starbuck motioned towards Bojay. "What about him?" He was also attached to an IV and a monitor, and part of his head was bandaged. He knew, from the briefing with the commander, that the doctor had had to operate on him, as well, to try to repair damage.  
"Well, that's kind of the puzzle." Salik shook his head. "The laser was set for stun, so that didn't cause his injuries. Preliminary scans indicated some kind of cranial hemorrhage. The cause is still unknown."  
"Could that," Starbuck asked, "have had anything to do with, with . . ." He couldn't bring himself to say it."  
"Possibly. I think we all agree that the lieutenant was not in his right state of mind. Why --" The doctor shook his head again. "we may never know."  
"What are you saying?" Starbuck bit off the words, feeling a rising anger and frustration at the senselessness of it all. Two good pilots, two friends, and no explanation.   
"That his recovery is far from certain."  
"Frak," Starbuck whispered, as he shifted his gazed from Bojay back to Sheba. She was so still, so unlike the Sheba they all knew. Apollo sat next to her now, gently stroking her hand, the tears flowing freely down his face. Starbuck fought to keep his own emotions under control as he watched his dearest friend. To lose Sheba when they had only just begun to explore their budding relationship, to lose her after losing Serina . . . Starbuck didn't know if Apollo could handle that.  
************  
/// Consciousness was slow to return, so expended was it. Drained of its energy, scattered once more, not throughout the vastness of space, but within the depths of a deeply unconscious mind. But slowly, bit by bit, it congealed, reformulated, reorganized, until it felt its first rational thought. Escape. Escape, it must escape. This body was spent, could not support him. Not for much longer. It would lose itself forever if it did not escape soon. ///  
Only the sounds of the two monitors broke the silence of the lifestation; each beeped steadily, softly, but asynchronously. Reluctant to disturb the stillness, Cassiopeia moved quietly, carefully, as she checked on the two patients. For both, only the slightest movements of their chests belied the image of lifelessness.   
It had taken a firm commandment from Dr. Salik to convince Apollo to leave Sheba's side and to get some rest. He was exhausted, so exhausted, from a constant vigil broken only when duty absolutely demanded it, so Cassie didn't doubt that he would sleep, despite a strong stubbornness *not* to. It had been four days, four days with no change, for either one. For Sheba, some of the bandages around her head had been removed, some of the outward wounds were healing, but she remained in a deep coma.   
Bojay, Cassie feared, might be doing worse. On several occasions, his vital signs had accelerated erratically before stabilizing again. She gazed at him now, wondering once more what could possibly have driven him to attack Sheba. It was so illogical, so inconceivable, that she felt no anger at him, just a deep, deep sadness. The unanswered question burned in everyone's souls - why?   
It burned the deepest with Captain Apollo. From the stony expressions that beset him every time he let his gaze fall on Lieutenant Bojay, she could tell that the struggle to comprehend was fierce. He said very little, but his eyes reflected a turmoil of anger, frustration, and bitter sadness. Rationally, medically, he knew that Bojay was not to blame, that something, some unknown cause, had driven him to it; love is seldom rational, though.  
  
**********  
/// Patience. . . patience? No! Enough! After being trapped, trapped, for so long now, so long, trapped. Trapped within the confines of the very species whose existence it despised, loathed, for they were responsible for its forfeiture of power. It *would* escape the confines of this feeble life form. It must, it must, it must! ///  
The alarm sounded, startling Cassie. Not again, she thought to herself as she rushed to Bojay's bedside. His heart rate had accelerated, his respiration came in forced gasps, and his brain activity reading, as before, was like nothing they had seen.   
He started to convulse.   
"Frak!" she said. He would tear out his tubes. Cassie grabbed the hypo that lay next to his biobed and placed a hand on his chest to try to hold him down long enough to inject the sedative. A diode snapped lose. At the same instant, she felt a burning in her fingers, a shooting sensation. She gasped and snapped the hand back out of reflex but had no time to consider what had happened. She *had* to inject that sedative. Throwing herself on top of him, she was able to slip the hypo to his neck and press the release. A moment later, he was still, deathly still, once more.  
Cassie pulled herself off, reattached the diode, and took several breaths to calm herself, studying his monitor. All readings had returned to what had become his normal. Low, so low, but stable. For now.  
"Frak," she muttered again, rubbing her hand absently. The sudden convulsion was as inexplicable as the rest of his condition. She wondered how many more times this could happen before he failed to stabilize again.   
A faint throbbing in her temples made her close her eyes. Maybe she should follow the advice that Dr. Salik had given Apollo; she had worked too many double shifts in the past four days. She was exhausted, too, she realized. Yet, she feared, as she knew Apollo did, that if she left, she might return to find the unthinkable had happened. If she were here, she might be able to prevent it. She had to know, had to stay.   
  
****************  
/// Yes! It felt so revitalizing to be a part of this one, to feel the strong energy again, to be able to fortify its weakened self. But it *must* show restraint, restraint. The Others had made it much more difficult, but not impossible, to accomplish its plan without drawing Their attention - no he must avoid that. It would have to force itself to wait, to study this new individual, to evaluate what had happened after his conquest of Sheba had been so agonizingly interrupted, to plot the next step. ///  
Apollo returned several centars later. He looked like he had gone through the motions, at least, to get some rest, but his eyes still reflected weariness, exhaustion. He smiled a perfunctory smile at Cassie as he entered, but did not ask if there had been any changes. One look at Sheba's still form answered that question, anyway. Pulling up his chair he sat and took her hand in his, rubbing it, caressing it, as he had done so often over the past four days. And he began to tell her the plans for the day, speaking as casually as he could, smiling at her, trying to mask all feelings but the hope that as she healed, she would grow stronger, she would hear him, she *would* pull herself from the depths to rejoin them.  
Cassie had stopped to watch Apollo. Outwardly, he remained the resolute, stoic captain, determined to show nothing but optimism as he sat with Sheba. She was his mission now, his assignment. Commander Adama had granted him the time, whatever time he needed. At first, Cassie knew that he had protested, not wanting to shirk, in his eyes, at least, his duties to the Fleet. The commander, however, had quietly and firmly ordered him to take the time off, leaving him no other choice. After the first day, though, it seemed that he had allowed himself to overcome that unwillingness to put his needs first; he now spent every moment possible at Sheba's bedside.  
Yes, outwardly, he remained calm, determined, but inside, Cassie knew, that each day that passed, each centar, each moment that Sheba failed to respond, tore at him. It hurt to see her so still, so lifeless, so unlike the vibrant, radiant, smiling Sheba that he had finally let himself love. It had been no more than a sectar, though, and then to face this? In some ways, not knowing if she would ever wake up was more painful than an outright death. Yes, there was hope, but that hope died just a fraction each day. That hope was slowly, gradually, changing to a desperation. Cassie saw it, could sense it; Apollo wanted nothing more than to *will* her to wake up.   
A faint smile crept across Cassiopeia's lips.  
"Morning," said a quiet but familiar voice. "You look a million metrons away."  
Cassie blinked. Her mind had drifted, she realized. "Good morning," Starbuck," she said, shaking off the confused sensation.   
Starbuck nodded, gave her a brief, playful smile, but then turned to stare at Sheba and Apollo. The smile faded quickly. The lieutenant had come by, as he had the past several days, to check on Sheba before starting his own duties for the day. More importantly, Cassie knew, he had come to check on Apollo. Like the captain, he did not ask about Sheba's condition; he knew just by watching Apollo. And his concern, while strong for Sheba, was more for his friend. Cassie knew how frustrated he was knowing that nothing he might do could ease Apollo's pain. No jokes or playful comments. It left him with very little to say to the captain. So he said nothing, but let him know that he was there for them, ready to support them both.  
"Hey, buddy," Starbuck said quietly, moving to stand next to Apollo.  
"Hey," said Apollo, looking up briefly, smiling faintly, then letting it fade. With Starbuck, Apollo knew, pretenses were useless; the lieutenant could practically read his mind, so attuned was he.  
Starbuck watched, silent, but put a hand on the captain's shoulder. Apollo returned his gaze to Sheba. Cassie gazed at the scene in front of her, feeling . . .  
/// Yes, yes . . . this is, indeed, better than a death. Death tears the soul like a sword, with a huge gaping wound. The shock is more violent, but a strong one like the captain could overcome that. But this, this is like a slow infection, eating away at him, tearing down his defenses bit by bit. Yes, how immeasurably gratifying it is to watch his torment. ///  
  
Cassie dropped the comupad she had been holding and grabbed at her temples. For the briefest of moments she had felt the oddest, most incongruent feeling of . . . joy? Then the stabbing pain had burst through her head. She squeezed her eyes shut to shake it off.  
"Are you okay?" It was Dr. Salik's voice.   
Cassie opened her eyes. The doctor stood in front of her, having just entered to start the morning shift. Behind him, Apollo was gazing at her. Starbuck looked puzzled, then moved to stand next to the doctor. He looked worried.  
"I'm fine," she said. The pain had faded. She felt a little shaky but otherwise all right.  
"You need to rest," Salik said.  
"My shift ends in just a few centons. Let me just wrap up some things."  
The doctor crossed his arms and frowned. "Now, Cassiopeia. Now. We can take care of everything here."  
"Look," said Starbuck. He noticed that Apollo had turned his attention back to Sheba. "I'll walk you back to your quarters."   
/// No! It wanted, needed to savor the sight of the captain's torment. No! It could not leave. It had waited so long, so long, for this moment. ///  
"Oh!" The pain again. Cassie rubbed her head and closed her eyes.  
"Cass, how long have you been having these headaches?" Salik sounded puzzled, thoughtful.  
"It just started this morning," she said opening her eyes as the pain faded. "It's probably just fatigue."  
"Maybe." Dr. Salik had his hand on his chin and looked deep in thought.  
"What? What is it?" Starbuck was studying the doctor, too.  
"It may be nothing, or there may be absolutely no connection, but," he answered quietly, too low for Apollo to hear, "Bojay had been complaining of headaches. So had Avery. For each, I could find no apparent cause . . . now -"  
"Both went nuts, attacked someone, died or almost died," stated Starbuck. "Sounds like a connection to me!"  
/// No, no! You must not pursue this! Calm . . . calm . . .///  
"I'm fine," insisted Cassiopeia. "I just haven't slept in over 24 centars."  
Salik looked thoughtful, still. Starbuck looked frustrated. "Doctor," he said, "What can you do?"  
"I think I should run some analyses, compare records. Still, there's so little to go by. I'm not sure what it will gain us."  
Starbuck pointed a finger at Cassiopeia. "Can you check her out?"  
/// No. No. No! Calm . . . Calm . . . Control. Regain control. Control. And leave. ///  
"Starbuck, I just need sleep - bad. Or I'm going to fall over!"  
"But -"  
Salik sighed. He hated to dissuade her from leaving, now that he had finally convinced her to get some rest. "Look, I'll take a look at my records. Cass, if that headache is still there after you get some sleep, then I'll do some scans, okay?"  
Starbuck looked ready to argue further, but was not given the chance; Cassie turned and headed out of the lifestation. He glanced in exasperation at Salik, then looked towards Apollo. The captain had not heard their discussion. He sat, eyes closed, with Sheba's hand to his cheek. "Frak," he muttered, and then set off after Cassie.  
  
**************  
Part 5  
"Cassie, wait!" Starbuck trotted up behind the med tech and put a hand on her elbow.  
"What?" she said, shaking off his hand, but stopping.  
"I was going to walk you back, remember?"  
/// Calm . . . calm . . . There will be a way. ///  
"Sorry." Cassie sighed. "Look, I *am* really tired. I don't feel like talking, okay? You're on patrol with Boomer soon, right? Just go on. I'd really rather be alone."  
"I won't talk, I promise," he answered. "But let me go with you. Make sure you're okay."  
"I'm fine!" she snapped.  
/// No, no. Calm . . . calm . . . Ease off. Control is essential.///  
Starbuck raised an eye brow at her. "Cass, I'm not leaving until I see you enter your quarters. Then you can lock me out."  
"Okay," she said with a sigh. She let him wrap his right arm around her and leaned against him. They walked slowly, silently towards her quarters. Why had she resisted? It was so comforting just to feel his touch. It helped erase the sorrow of the scene in the lifestation. Maybe . . .  
/// Enough. Enough. Enough. Even as weak as these humans are, should the doctor make a contection . . . No. He cannot; they must not. What course? What course? No, calm. Wait. Patience. ///  
Cassie had closed her eyes, almost, letting the lieutenant guide her. It was so relaxing, except for something poking her side as she leaned against him. She glanced down. It was his holster. His laser. Laser. Laser . . .  
///Yes, oh, yes. The next step. She is relaxed and unaware. So easy to feel. So simple now. To turn her passion into vengeance. To break and destroy yet another link in Their triad. To tear out yet another piece of the captain's soul. ///  
Her left hand moved slowly, carefully.   
///Yes, yes. But calm . . . calm . . .///  
The fingers rested on top of the holster. Gently, gently they flicked the snap on the top closure. She leaned closer to distract him. "Maybe you should come in," she whispered, snuggling against his shoulder.  
Starbuck sighed. "I'm on patrol in ten centons . . ."  
///Slowly, slowly, he must not know . . .///  
"Well, I'll settle for a 'goodnight kiss,' then," Cassie said. "A long one . . ."  
Her fingers wrapped around the laser's handle, resting lightly, waiting.  
"Hmm," Starbuck said, surprised but pleased by her sudden change of mind. "Sounds nice." He was clearly distracted.  
/// Soon, soon. Maintain control and feel the power. The power to turn love into hatred and pleasure into vehemence.///  
She brought her other hand up to touch his chest. They were alone in the corridor, a long stretch that had no doors until it rounded the next turn. Her fingers danced across his tunic. "Why wait?" she murmured, now pressing her hand against his chest so that he would stop.  
Starbuck pulled her close. For the moment, she let her hand release the laser to slide around behind his back. She could sense the frustration beneath the surface as he simply held her tight against his chest.  
/// Yes. You feel Apollo's pain, too. Yes. And impotence at not being able to do anything. We shall ease your pain.///  
Cassie slid her right hand up to gently caress his neck, his face. She felt him relax enough to pull back, to seek her touch, her kiss, his eyes closed. She guided his chin as she leaned against him. Their lips touched.  
/// The passion of love turns to the passion of vengeance. . .///  
As he pulled her close, losing himself in the kiss, so tender, so fervent from the underlying frustrations, her left hand slid back down his side. Without warning, Cassie broke the kiss and pushed away, pushing him back. As she moved, her fingers grasped the laser and whisked it from the holster. She stepped back quickly, out of his reach, pointing the weapon at his heart.  
"What are you doing?" Starbuck stared at her in disbelief.   
"Die," she whispered.  
"Cassie!" he shouted, bewildered. "Cassie stop! This is insane!" He stared into her eyes. "Cassie, you can't possibly do this."  
  
"Yes, I can," she said quietly, then more forcefully, almost laughing. "Yes, I can!"  
Starbuck glanced at the laser. Her hand was trembling. He might be able to move, to grab the gun. Maybe. He gazed into her eyes again. "No, Cassie, whatever this is, don't. Don't do it!" She gazed back at him.  
/// I can feel the passion of your *death*! ///  
A slow smile spread across her lips.  
Their gaze locked. She was going to do it. He *felt* it before she actually pulled the trigger. He threw himself at her feet. The shot went high, scorched the wall, making a deafening, crackling explosion. He grabbed her ankles before she could take aim again and pulled her down, scrambling on top of her, grabbing for the arm that held the laser. He knocked her elbow a micron before it fired again.  
/// No! Not possible!///  
"Cassie! Stop!" He was shouting, pleading, even as he pressed her arm against the floor, pressed his full weight on top of her. Their eyes locked again. The burning hatred that blazed at him through her blue eyes was not Cassiopeia.   
Suddenly, he was not on the _Galactica_, but on a planet, amidst the ruins of a crashed ship. In front of him Apollo lay dead. Killed. Struck down by -"  
"Iblis!"  
"Curse you!" It was Cassie's voice, but in his mind he heard Count Iblis. And he was insane with rage now.  
With inhuman strength she pushed against him, pushed with her free hand, and tried to twist around. When he pressed even harder, she pulled the hand out and clawed at his face, scratching violently.  
Starbuck was forced to shift his weight to block the attack. As soon as he did so, she twisted again, knocking him off balance. He tumbled to his left but still gripped her wrist, determined to hang on. Cassie ended up on top of him, the laser pressed between them. Starbuck grasped it with his other hand to push, push, push the barrel away from his face, away from her face. A shot right now would kill them both, he thought wildly. He did not want to hurt her, but she was so strong under Iblis's influence. He pushed, squeezed harder. He had no other choice.  
/// You fool! Fool! No one defies me! No one! /// Iblis's voice roared in his ears, in his head. Starbuck heard a sickening snap and felt Cassie's arm go slack. She screamed in agony. Out of adrenalin-driven instinct, he flung her off of him, then twisted around to prepare for more. But she was limp, unconscious.   
He flopped back onto his back. He was breathing in gasps, too tired, too shocked to get up. The sound of Cassie's agonized scream echoed in mind; the sight of her laying there, her arm twisted, broken, made his stomach churn. Eventually he heard the pounding of feet, heard voices. Someone, obviously, had noticed the laser fire.   
Where was Iblis?  
/// You detestable, vile human! No one defies me!///   
Starbuck grabbed at his head, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as the words cut through his mind. A fiery sensation shot through every fiber of his body.   
But in that instant, as he screamed in agony, curling tightly into a fetal ball to escape the pain, he and the Iblis entity melded. He *knew* all that it knew. And knew that even in it's wildest fury it felt -- fear. Of what? Of what? Starbuck concentrated on that one sensation as he tried to ignore that horrible pain that was building inside his skull. Fear. Fear of - death! Yes!   
"You can't," Starbuck uttered through clenched teeth.  
Without warning, the pain vanished. Starbuck collapsed back. He was vaguely aware of voices shouting at him. He opened his eyes to see people approaching. People. Dr. Salik, Apollo, and others. Apollo was reaching for him.  
/// Apollo, come to me. Come to me.///  
"No!" the lieutenant screamed and scrambled up, scrambled back, out of reach. "Don't touch me!" He *knew* that was what Iblis wanted. He felt weak, faint - and so did Iblis. The struggle had drained it; the attempt to kill him had almost killed it, as well.   
He sat against the corridor wall. The people grouped in front of him looked bewildered. Salik was checking Cassie. Cassie, Cassie! The urge to reach out and comfort her, to touch her, was great, so great . . .  
/// See what you did to her? The mangled, twisted arm? See what you did? Go to her . . .///  
"No!" he whispered, still gasping for breath. He held himself rigidly against the wall.   
"Starbuck! What's going on?" Apollo shouted at him. He was approaching again. Behind him, he could see that several security guards had arrived now, as well.  
/// You can't win. I have you. I can reach to the very depths of your soul. ///  
Suddenly, he was on Caprica, amid the ruins of the capital city. Buildings were burning, people screaming and crying in the distance. The dead lay all around, their bodies scorched and charred or crushed, mangled by fallen debris. Caprica City. Destroyed, gone. The smell was putrid. The smoke choked his throat and stung his eyes. The city had been so beautiful, so beautiful once, the pinnacle of human achievement, but now --   
/// I know your greatest despair, your deepest fears. . .///  
He saw what had been familiar places – the Colonial Academy, Adama's home, the orphanage where he had spent so many of his yahrens before enlisting. He saw them destroyed. . . watched as the Cylons burst through the dawn skies, blasting mercilessly, saw each place devastated, saw the people dying in agony, saw the children, the children who had been sleeping in their beds or gathered around the vid screen to watch the peace celebration. Saw their faces as the Cylons ripped through the orphanage grounds. No survivors, no survivors . . .  
"No!" Starbuck pressed his palms against his eyes to block out the horror, but the vision was in his mind. Inescapable.  
/// See it! Feel it! This is what remains of your pitiful human civilization! ///  
"Frak you . . ." It was a whimper. The image of destruction was overwhelming. All-encompassing. It cut through his soul. A feeling of infinite sorrow threatened to consume him.  
"Starbuck!" The words penetrated. Apollo. A familiar voice. "Starbuck!" The vision and its power over him broke.  
No, he was not on Caprica! He was on the _Galactica_. He opened is eyes to see Apollo taking another hesitant step closer. Apollo . . .  
/// Your closest friend. Yes, only he can help you, save you. Only Apollo. ///  
Breathing in deep, ragged breaths, fighting for control, Starbuck stared into the captain's eyes. "It's Iblis," whispered. The words would barely come. "Don't touch me."  
Apollo froze. The words were like acid, burning through him. Iblis. He struggled to remain steady, calm. Only the rigid set to his jaw reflected the magnitude of that effort. He took a slow step back.   
/// No! ///  
An intense pain shot threw his temples. Starbuck gasped, yet managed to lock his gaze with Apollo. "Iblis - did -- it." He forced the words out with each breath. "Killed -- Avery and tried -- to kill . . . Sheba, through Bojay." The pain was incredible, blazing through his head. He clamped his hands over his temples and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, huddling against the wall.  
/// You cannot defeat me. I know your limits as well as mine, now. Yes, I now know . . .I *am* you. ///  
The pain eased and changed, changed to a force, an overriding wave that spread throughout him slowly. Starbuck felt numb, paralyzed. Pushed aside. Unable to do anything as Iblis assumed control of his physical body. He was an observer within himself. Slowly, he felt his breathing become deep and even, his limbs relaxed, watched through his own eyes as Iblis straighten to face the captain.  
  
Apollo had watched the transformation in horror, realizing that Iblis was taking control. The lieutenant's movements were deliberate; the eyes that now gazed at him reflected confidence, triumph, and arrogance. Apollo ordered everyone to stand back, trying desperately to think of a course of action. "Iblis!" he yelled. "Let him go! It's me you want."  
Iblis stared calmly at the captain. A thin smile spread across his lips. "You're right." His gaze shifted to the laser which lay nearby, and his hand reached for it. Slowly, methodically, he grasped the weapon and stood up. He let the laser dangle at his side, though, and nodded towards the security guards, who had drawn their own guns. "Go on. Have them shoot me. But remember how your Lieutenant Bojay lies so close to death in your lifestation."  
Apollo motioned for them to put away their weapons, to move back even further. Dr. Salik slid Cassie over, out of the way, cradling her in his arms as he sat with her waiting, wondering.  
"So wise, dear captain, so wise."  
Apollo's face was expressionless, his breaths measured, as he drew his own weapon and leveled it at the center of his friend's chest. Inside, though, his heart was pounding. "I wouldn't place that burden on anyone else, but if I have to shoot you, I will."  
"Would you? I will kill Starbuck, if you do. That I promise you." Iblis spoke casually. "Would you risk that? The death of your closest friend at your own hands? Come to me, instead. I'll release him. It's you that I want."  
Apollo took a deep breath. "Put the laser down, first." He had to buy time, somehow. He had to think of a way, a way to stop Iblis. During their previous encounter, the count's powers had been limited, compromised once a person understood his true intent and rejected him. But now . . . he was much more formidable, it seemed. He had killed Avery, almost killed Sheba, Bojay, and Cassiopeia.  
"There," said Iblis with a malicious smile as he let the weapon fall, clattering across the floor. "I knew you'd see the wisdom in listening. It's the only way to save your friend. Now, come to me, Apollo."   
The captain stood motionless for a moment, torn, more uncertain than he had ever been. He lowered his laser, but kept his arm ready, his muscles tense, in case, just in case. He did not doubt that Iblis would kill Starbuck, but could he do it in the instant before a laser beam struck him? Bojay lay near death, but not dead. But he did not believe for one moment that Iblis would release Starbuck, should he give himself over. If only he knew what, if any, the count's limits were.   
Iblis sensed Apollo's indecision. "To have you, I must release the lieutenant. That is the only way. Come to me and I will release him. You can save him. Only you. Or he *will* die. I can crush his mind in an instant." He took a step towards the captain, his hand outstretched. "Save him. Come to me."  
Apollo could think of no alternative. He glanced at the unconscious form of Cassie, her swollen, bruised arm, how battered she was from her struggle with Starbuck and how much force he had had to use with her. And he remembered Sheba as she had looked the morning that Bojay – Bojay! – had attacked her. Would she survive? Would any of them? Iblis was merciless and single minded, insanely determined. The course the captain chose must, *must* be the one most likely to stop Iblis. To go to him would seal Starbuck's fate, and his own; he had seen how easily the count had taken over his friend, despite Starbuck fighting – as Apollo knew he would have – with every bit of his free will. The only limiting factor seemed to be that Iblis needed physical contact to transfer from one body to another. The lieutenant's words rang through Apollo's mind: "Don't touch me."  
"I'm sorry, Starbuck," he whispered as he leveled the laser at his friend's chest.  
Iblis' smile slipped. "I promise you, Apollo, even if you stun me, he *will* die."  
Apollo's words were barely audible. "It's not set to stun." His hand was starting to shake; he gripped the weapon with his other to steady his aim.   
"You cannot possibly kill your closest friend." Iblis was glaring at him now. "It would be the same as killing a part of yourself. So foolish! It's you I want, not him. Come, and save him."  
Was there another way? Was there? Would Iblis kill Starbuck if Apollo gave himself to him? Would he? Could he be certain? Something deep, deep inside of him was telling him that to trust anything the count said was madness; that to go to him would certainly mean both Starbuck's death and his own. If Iblis wanted to torture him, what better way than to kill Starbuck even as he possessed him . . .  
"No, Iblis," Apollo said. "There is no other way. No other way to stop you." He gripped the laser's handle tightly, his knuckles turning white. Iblis alive meant infinite peril for the entire Fleet, all that remained of the human race. He had sacrificed Zac to have the chance to save the Colonies. . . but not this way. Oh, by the Lords of Kobol, Iblis was right! This would kill him, as surely as if he went to Iblis. But he also knew that he could not, would not, place any other person – any of the security guards or warriors who stood watching in horror -- in this position, either. Iblis would gain his revenge, but the Fleet would be safe.  
"No!" Iblis roared and flung himself at the captain.   
"Lords forgive me," Apollo whispered as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and pulled the trigger.   
  
**********************  
Part 6   
  
At the instant the weapon discharged, a blinding, white radiance exploded between Apollo and Iblis, absorbing the laser's energy and enveloping them both, forming a shield. The captain felt as if he were suspended in a warm, soothing liquid, and time seemed to shift, to alter; he could move, but only slowly. He released the laser, and it gradually, silently, fell to the floor. Yet, the light swirled and swirled, faster and faster. Glowing orbs appeared out of the brilliant luminescence. They sped rapidly around the two, around all the stunned observers.   
Apollo stood about a metron from Iblis/Starbuck, who was staring wide-eyed at the surrounding radiance. He watched in shocked fascination as Starbuck's face slowly, slowly went from an enraged, insane fury, to consternation, to agony as his lips formed a soundless "No!"   
Then Apollo felt the warm brilliance changing, pulling away from him, releasing him as it enveloped only Starbuck. The sensation was like pulling one's head out from under water; he could suddenly hear the alert klaxon sounding, could see the emergency lights flashing, could hear the building high-pitched whine as the orbs whirled around. The others were cringing and covering their ears. The noise was deafening, piercing, and he grabbed at his own ears, pressing his palms tightly against his temples, trying to block the building pressure. The lights continued to swirl wildly about, over, around, even through the onlookers. Their resonance was too great, too unbearable. Within moments, the others had succumbed, collapsing, losing consciousness.   
Apollo was the last one on his feet, the only one still awake. With a sudden pop, almost, the noise abated, allowing him to uncover his ears and watch, watch in apprehension, yet fascination, as the orbs swirled faster and faster around Starbuck, who stood immobilized, it seemed. The lieutenant's expression was twisted, his eyes blazing in fury and desperation. As Apollo watched, the luminescence changed gradually from white to an icy blue, and as it transformed, Starbuck's face gradually relaxed, the intense emotions draining, draining out, until his eyes closed, and he appeared to only be sleeping, floating. The lights gently lowered him to the floor.   
And as he watched, Apollo realized that he knew, already understood, what was happening. The fury and anguish he had been feeling only moments before melted into a vast relief. Yes, Lords bless them! Tears blurred his vision as he watched the orbs. They moved with a blinding speed, and as the blue faded back to white, the warm glow returned, surrounding Starbuck, bathing him, healing him with its pure radiance.   
Then they vanished. The luminosity, though, faded gradually.  
The corridor was filled with an eerie silence. The alarms had ceased. Apollo looked around, breathing in deep breaths, wondering. He knew who they were. He knew them. The Ship of Lights beings. So where . . .?   
He remembered, remembered now their previous experience with these beings. They had taken Sheba, Starbuck, and him aboard their Ship of Lights, had given him back his life after Iblis had struck him down. And they had gifted the three of them with a unique quality, a subconscious connection to these beings, who were much like their "guardians." When they had been returned to their realm, Apollo now knew, the three had retained . . . he didn't know what to call it other than a special bond.   
That, he also realized, was why Iblis was so furious at him -- at all three of them, but at him, most especially. These beings had infuriated Iblis by restoring Apollo's life to him, as well as by creating the link among the three. Their actions had been a deliberate affront to him. And then to punish him by reducing his powers . . . that had driven him insane with rage.  
Reducing his powers?  
Apollo knew all of this before the swirling lights returned a moment after they had disappeared, spiraling together until a shape, a humanoid form, evolved out of it. The being was solid, yet transparent, ethereal, draped in a silky, unearthly white material that glowed and shimmered as it moved. Its face was featureless, except for two brilliantly deep and dark eyes. Its shape was genderless.  
"Yes. You are correct." The words formed in the captain's mind. They sounded tinny, as if slightly unmodulated, with a slight pause between each word. "Iblis wanted revenge. We regret the pain he caused you and your people."  
Taking a deep breath, blinking away the tears, Apollo gazed at Starbuck, remembering what had just happened. It had that vague, unreal feeling, like he had awoken from a nightmare. Starbuck looked peaceful, now, asleep like the others, "Is Iblis . . .?"  
"He is gone. We sent him out into the depths of space, a vast distance from this Fleet. He should not trouble you again."  
"Is he . . .?"   
"He exists still. We did nothing more than remove him from your realm. And warn him that if he should return, he would forfeit even more."  
"But, if he forfeited a part of his powers," Apollo said, feeling perplexed, "why was he so much *more* powerful?" The image of Starbuck's face, twisted in fury, as he lunged for him, as Apollo pulled the trigger, burned in his memory.  
"An unfortunate happening. He forfeited the ability to assume a substantive form. We regret that he was able to impose his energy on your people. Yes, it did make him more devastating, in some ways."  
Devastating . . . an understatement, thought Apollo. He finally let himself go to his friend. He knelt down next to the lieutenant. The tears threatened to overflow again, his voice choked in his throat. "How – how is he?"  
"He will be all right. He is resting now."   
Apollo gazed at Starbuck. He looked relaxed, serene; yet that peacefulness belied the torment that the captain knew Iblis had imposed on him. He shifted his eyes to the shimmering being. "How much --?"  
Perhaps it was his imagination, but the being seemed to hesitate. "He will remember very little, only that it happened, but none of the details," it finally said.  
Apollo felt overwhelmed by conflicting emotions: great relief, yet trepidation, and anger, an intense anger that Iblis had destroyed one life and almost four others. What would they remember? So many more had witnessed the results of Iblis' intended revenge. How would this be explained if – "You can't block our memories this time."   
The captain stared at the expressionless form, remembering their previous encounter with both Iblis and with them. He now knew just how much knowledge these beings had denied him, Starbuck, Sheba, all the pilots who had been taken aboard their Ship of Lights – everyone in the Fleet. The pilots had been returned to the _Galactica_ with outlandish stories of inexplicable mass engine failures and having been stranded on the red planet for over a secton. Looking back, now, Apollo realized just how inconceivable that story seemed. And then the three of them – he, Starbuck, and Sheba – had returned by shuttle with the memory of the experience aboard the Ship of Lights almost completely blocked. He remembered the sensation, the confused feeling, as he and the others had tried to explain what had happened; it *had* felt as if a chunk of time had been erased. And so it had been.  
He also remembered how troubling that sensation had been for him in the sectons following the encounter. He *knew* that more had happened. The three clearly remembered Apollo challenging Count Iblis and then being struck down. Killed. Dead beyond any doubt. And then he was aboard the shuttle craft, awakening, startling both Sheba and Starbuck . . . The two had been hard pressed to explain it, because they knew he had been dead. The only acceptable theory that he had been "merely stunned" just did not adequately explain the event. Starbuck, Sheba and he all had felt the weight of the missing, blocked memories.  
"Not this time," Apollo said, feeling a burning ire at the assumption that such a profound experience could be simply erased. "We have to know the truth. We deserve to remember after – after all that Iblis did." He was almost shouting at the being.  
The luminous alien seemed to shimmer more intensely, as if considering his demand, or, perhaps, discussing it with a greater consciousness – or in whatever true state these beings existed.  
"You stated before that we, we humans, have the potential to evolve, to become like you," Apollo continued, calming his emotions a bit. "So, so . . ." he fumbled for the appropriate words.  
"Yes," said the being, reading his thoughts. "Yes, you are like our children; we only seek to protect you. Too much knowledge too soon could disrupt your evolution."  
"But, but –" Apollo wanted desperately for the alien to understand how important this felt to him. "But as children, we *need* to remember our experiences. Even the most painful ones. By denying us the memories, you deny us the chance to learn from this experience." Apollo stared intently into the black, void-like eyes of the being. "We can handle it. I know it. And – and –" The anger returned. "Look at what happened this time! Iblis caught us completely by surprise. Your "reduction" of his powers allowed him to almost destroy us!" A fleeting but intense reflection about the imperfection of even the most god-like, highly-advanced intelligence permeated Apollo's thoughts.  
The being, however, seemed to accept the captain's perceptions. "You are correct," it said in its slow, monotone "voice" that sounded in his mind. "Perhaps we have not adequately balanced our knowledge and even intervention; although, it is against our creed, our state of existence, to interfere in the development of another species. But Iblis has done considerable damage . . ."  
Apollo felt astonished. This being – these beings – were admitting their imperfections. They were so highly advanced – eons beyond Apollo and his people – yet, yet . . . They seemed almost human to him at this instance.   
Apollo took a deep breath and shook his head as he studied his sleeping friend once more. Even Iblis, so great in his powers and driven by an infinite rage, had been shocked and stymied by the "mere humans." As horrible as Apollo's memory was of actually pulling the trigger – of taking that seemingly irreversible step that would have killed his closest, most dearest friend – it was also balanced, if only minutely, with the belief – no, the firm knowledge! -- that he would also have killed Iblis. That small, small victory had been reflected in Iblis' expression on Starbuck's face.  
Apollo put a hand on the lieutenant's shoulder, saying a silent prayer of gratitude and seeking forgiveness, and rose to face the being. "So what will happen now?"  
"They will awaken soon. And . . . they will remember all that has taken place this time."  
"Thank you," Apollo whispered. That meant that they all, especially Bojay, Sheba, Cassiopeia, and Starbuck, would have to come to terms with what Iblis had done to them or with what inconceivable actions he had made them take. Bojay and Cassie – especially Cassie -- knew so little of what had happened previously. But what about their previous memories? What had happened to Bojay and his squadron when they had disappeared, taken aboard the Ship of Lights . . . evaluation? The answer entered his mind.   
The being just nodded. "Yes, we needed to study your species when we first encountered you. We did not know you; although, it was apparent that Iblis did. We learned a great deal from your pilots."  
"And those memories?" Apollo insisted. "Much of our current ordeal will make no sense without that prior knowledge."  
"The pilots have no true memories of their experience," the alien admitted. "They remained in a protected stasis at the time. But they will know *of* the experience."  
"And Sheba? Starbuck? What about the three of us?" Apollo asked, begining to feel impatient and tired – oh, so tired! The beings seemed so reluctant to reveal any more than absolutely necessary, and only if the captain demanded it.  
The alien, however, felt his frustration. "We apologize. Communication is sometimes difficult. We use the form with which you are the most familiar, vocalizations, though they be internal representations of thoughts for you. But I see that is not sufficient at this moment." The being began to shimmer more brightly, to lose its form. "Permit us to communicate another way."  
Apollo gazed at the being as it dissolved back into the glowing, flickering lights. They enveloped him once again with their radiance; the sensation was startling, yet soothing. He felt as though he were suspended in a warm, living liquid, almost. The sensation defied mere words. For several moments, the luminescence held him. And suddenly he realized that he knew the answers to all of his unanswered questions, and more. He knew that he, Sheba, and Starbuck would remember their previous experience and would be able draw upon it for support and comfort as they dealt with the scars left behind by Iblis. And he knew that they would heal the others, Cassie, Bojay, and Sheba, as they had done with Starbuck.  
"Thank you," Apollo whispered, feeling overwhelmed. He now knew how benevolent, how kind and . . . pure these beings truly were. He knew their intentions and even their mistakes, and he felt from them the love of a parent for its children. It was the only way that he could begin to describe the sensations to himself.  
The beings were leaving soon, having done what they could to repair Iblis' destruction. Apollo searched his mind for the answer to one last question.  
"We cannot answer the question about Earth, for that is not yet written." The words formed in his mind once again. "Know that it exists, that you may reach it within your lifetime. Yet, too many factors, too many alternate possibilities, exist. We cannot know for certain which path you and your people will pursue. That is part of your freedom of choice."   
Apollo understood. They would be watching the humans as they continued their voyage, but it was not their place to interfere, unless forced by extreme circumstances, as they had been with Iblis. No, they were neither gods nor controllers nor seers; they were a highly advanced intelligence that had long ago evolved beyond physically limitations.   
"It is time," the voice said, and as these words formed, the lights slowly faded. Apollo knew in a flash of comprehension what was to happen next. Still, it hardly prepared him for the actual experience.  
  
*******  
"No!" Iblis roared and flung himself at the captain.   
"Lords forgive me," Apollo whispered as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and pulled the trigger.   
The blue laser beam shot out, but instead of searing through Starbuck's chest, as it should have from a mere metron, it exploded into a bloom of incandescent, sparkling light that enveloped both Apollo and Starbuck briefly, long enough to absorb the laser's energy, and then, with a brilliant flash, it vanished.  
The horrified observers, trying to blink away the spots that filled their vision, had no idea, yet, what was happening. Apollo, too, was momentarily blinded, and was knocked to the deck when Starbuck, his forward momentum unchecked, crashed into him. The laser slipped from his hand. The impact, along with suddenly being thrust back into the turmoil of his battle with Iblis, stunned him enough that his senses felt scrambled. He did not remember his experience with the Ship of Lights' beings, did not realize that Iblis was gone, removed, banished, and that all would be fine. No, as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, then opened them again, desperately, trying to clear his eyesight, the captain was aware of only one sensation: the unmoving weight on top of him. Unmoving. Dead. Murdered. Oh, dear God, no!  
"Starbuck!" he gasped, breathless beneath his friend's still form.  
The warriors and security guards surrounding them were starting to murmur in confusion, shock, fearing the worst, and afraid to find out. They stared, instead, waiting. Dr. Salik, gazing at the two warriors entangled on the deck, gently eased himself out from underneath Cassiopeia – then jumped, startled, when she moaned and began to awaken. It was then that we noticed her arm. It was healed. "What the --?" he muttered, bewildered.  
Apollo could finally see. Except that Starbuck's shoulder was across his face. He placed his hands against his friend and pushed him back slowly, unwillingly, still expecting to see a charred, burned wound in the middle of his chest to confirm what he thought had happened. Instead, the lieutenant groaned and moved, slipping off to one side. Apollo, incredulous, scrambled to a sitting position and grabbed the lieutenant by the arms, pulling him upright. "Starbuck! You're alive!" He stared in disbelief from his unmarred chest to his still drowsy but awakening face.   
"Well, of course I am!" Starbuck gazed at his friend with a puzzled expression. "Don't you remember?"  
Remember? Remember what? Apollo still felt disoriented, bewildered. The observers were also staring, confounded. He felt out of step with reality.  
"Them," Starbuck muttered, rubbing his head and gazing around at everyone. "They took Iblis. He's gone." He sounded weary.  
Then it all came back to him. He laughed, feeling a vast, unexpected relief that was immediately followed by a tremendous joy. Yes, he remembered. Iblis was gone, and everyone would be okay! He embraced Starbuck in a bear hug that knocked the wind from him. "Lords, I thought you were dead!"  
"Easy, easy!" the lieutenant mumbled breathlessly. When the captain finally released him, he was grinning at him. "Isn't it against regulations to hug someone you just tried to shoot?"  
He was joking, but Apollo's smile vanished. "Starbuck, I'm sorry—"  
"For what? Doing the only thing you could possibly do to get rid of Iblis? Don't be. I was just afraid that you *wouldn't,* because I knew that if you didn't, then Iblis would have won. He'd have defeated us all . . . Glad those beings decided to step in when they did, though . . ."  
"Are you okay?" Apollo asked, concerned, even though he knew that the lights had supposedly healed all who they could – Bojay, Sheba, Cassiopeia, and Starbuck. They had healed their physical wounds, at least.  
"Other than a slight headache," answered Starbuck, "I'm fine." He gave a bemused smile. "Wrestling with Diabolis can kinda wear a guy out, though."  
Apollo did not smile. "Yeah, buddy," he said, remembering the incredibly overpowering despair that he had felt as he had pulled the trigger, "that part's going to take time to deal with." Still, he closed his eyes in a silent prayer, thanking the mysterious beings from the Ship of Lights.   
Slowly, slowly, those around them were remembering bits and pieces, but it would still take a long while before it was all clear to them. Most had had no previous experience with the race other than through Iblis. It would still take a great deal of explaining for them to understand what had actually happened. Apollo was not even sure where to start --   
"Miracle. It's a miracle!" said a deep voice. Apollo and Starbuck turned to stare at Dr. Salik. He was gazing from them to Cassiopeia, who sat next to him, looking confused, still, but otherwise fine.   
"Cassie!" Starbuck moved over to her, embracing her as fervently as Apollo had embraced him. The mix of emotions was overwhelming, even though he understood what had happened. He could only imagine how she must be feeling; she knew almost nothing of the Ship of Lights beings. He wanted to tell her, let her know that Iblis had been vanquished by a race of beings as good and well-intentioned as the count was evil. That everything was all right. For the moment, he simply held her. Yeah, I guess it qualifies as a 'miracle,' he thought to himself.  
Apollo climbed to his feet, finally, with the help of those around him. They all looked so confused as they stared at him, but all he could think to say was, "It's a long story. I'll explain later." He gazed for a moment at his friend, as if making sure that he was, indeed, alive, then made his excuses to the crowd. Someone awaited him, and he needed to go to her. He had come so close to losing her. This nightmare would not be over until –  
The captain moved quickly down the corridor to the Lifestation. As he crossed the threshold, he stopped. Sheba was sitting on the biobed, talking with Bojay. She looked calm, much calmer than he felt. Even the first time, he remembered, she had been more open and accepting of the Ship of Lights beings. And more open to their powers to heal the mind as well as the body. It had been a weakness when she had first encountered Iblis, allowing him to so easily influence her. Now, though, it seemed to have allowed her to integrate her experience more readily. In fact, she seemed to be explaining it all to Bojay, who looked hurt and confused.   
And she was smiling, her eyes glowing. She looked so radiant, vibrant, as if the cleansing light had, indeed, absorbed all of Iblis's evilness and had washed her soul. It was so good to see her this way, Apollo thought as he gazed at her, feeling the tears well and blur his vision.   
Sheba finally noticed the captain staring at her. "Apollo!" she said. She was beaming. "I remember! I remember our time aboard the Ship of Light! And those beings!"  
Apollo cast what he hoped was a sympathetic smile at Bojay. He could not imagine what he was thinking or feeling at the moment. From the pain in his eyes, though, it was evident that he did not yet understand. "Just remember it *wasn't* you," Apollo said. Lords, he would have to remind himself of the same thing. "It was Iblis. There was nothing you could have done."  
Bojay nodded but still looked confused. Time, it would take lots of time.   
Apollo could wait no longer, though. He strode the last metron to the biobed and wrapped his arms around Sheba, enveloping her. He felt her warmth against him. He felt her heart beating strongly against his chest. And he buried his face in her hair as the tears spilled over and down his cheeks.   
  
*****  
EPILOGUE  
  
/// The wrath it felt was as infinite as the universe and as violent, as turbulent, as the massive storms that raged below on the huge planet, a gas giant, a brown dwarf, really, that orbited another small star. The system was young and growing. And within its outer reaches, the Iblis entity rolled and exploded upon itself, fueling its ire, its fury, and its despair – a profound despair that might have enveloped it, consumed it totally, had it not been for one burning flicker of a notion.   
Eventually, eventually, its rage abated as it grasped at that single thought, desperately. And with the calming came the ability to rationally analyze it situation, to know that, for now, it had an endless source of power from this binary star system. And time. Time to nurture this thought, fuel it, cling to it, and from the thought, emerged a growing determination, a single, driven conviction. Its one final avowal.   
Although the distance between it and its objective was now vast – millions of lightyahrens – a seemingly insurmountable expanse, it would not accept that it was impossible. Nothing was impossible! Nothing! Especially when given infinite time and energy to devote to this one, all-consuming purpose. It vowed that, in the end, it would succeed, somehow, somehow. The price would be its very existence.  
But it would not die alone. /// 


End file.
